Hindsight
by ashes of roses1
Summary: A sad fic. No real happy ending. Guess the couple in this short story (I left the characters unnamed). I loved this fic (it took me a month revising it) and i hope u feel the same way. All your questions answered in chapter 2!
1. The Whole Story

"Hindsight":

Lone Chapter:

He stared down at the grave in front of him on that windy autumn day. Covered in all black, and wearing sunglasses to conceal the tears he knew were rising from deep within, he stood there for a good ten minutes, staying behind even after the last mourner had left. 

"Are you coming?" he heard a voice ask him from nearby. Turning around, his eyes connected with those of a blonde woman, who was gazing at him imploringly. She wanted to take away his pain, but knew she couldn't. Time was the only likely solution to this problem, but patience for it was something the woman did not possess as a quality. 

She couldn't see his eyes, but his body language said enough about what he was thinking. Seeing him that way froze her soul in a cold sweat. She stood paralyzed in the despair that was his own. 

Offering no answer, he turned away from the woman, his eyes burning holes once again into the grave. _Her_ grave. 

He heard the blonde woman huff, puff and walk away angrily, muttering to herself. Here she was trying to help him in this trying time, but he wouldn't accept her any of her support. 

How could he? What was support anyway in a time of great tragedy and despair? A temporary solution to a problem he knew would never be erased from his heart. Or mind. 

Kneeling down, he brought his hands over to the grave, letting his fingers feel the impression of her name on the tombstone. 

She would have hated this, he thought to himself disgustedly. Hated what they wrote on her grave: "Beloved daughter and friend." All she wanted to be was a beloved wife, but she never did get that did she? And it was all my fault. 

They had said she died because everything had gone downhill for her, but he knew. That was a lie, as much as he wished the reality around him was a lie. She had been strong and resilient all of her life. All the years he had known her he never would have called her weak and pathetic. Or maybe he was just saying that now because she was dead. 

She's dead because of me, he told himself. She's lying here six feet under in the ground just because of me. 

Fresh tears fell from his eyes at the thought. Why couldn't he just be there for her? Why couldn't he just be satisfied enough with her - did he really _have_ to be with the blonde woman who had been here just a few minutes ago? And was the blonde even worth pursuing as much as her? A week ago he would have said a definite yes. But a lot had happened the past seven days. 

Her death had sent his life into a whirlwind. Everything he had established up until this stage in his life was tarnished. He was no longer as close to his family as he used to be. He wasn't willing to accept help. Like a rabbit, he had dug himself a hole, and refused to come out, or let anyone else come in. His eating and sleeping habits were pretty much nonexistent. And lastly, his flame of love had died out. She was the candle, maybe not _his_ candle, but _the_ candle nonetheless and after her flicker was blown away, so was his passion for love. He no longer saw it as pleasant, capable of changing the world for the better. No, he saw the grotesque version of love, the one that would catapult people into deep depressions and bouts of broken heart syndrome. And eventually death. 

"Love hurts," he whispered to her grave. "But it shouldn't hurt enough to lose the will to live. Dammitt!" He punched his fist into the upper part of her grave. "Was I even that worth it? Was I?! Why couldn't you just settle for another, huh? Why were you so _stubborn?"_ His voice had reached the point of shouting. 

He could hear the wind rustling through the trees. He leaned back, sniffling his tears away. He couldn't take his eyes off of her name on the grave. Looking through his sunglasses, what he saw before him looked surreal. How he wished this all wasn't true. That it was all a bad nightmare he would wake up from soon. 

He scowled, because he knew he would never wake up from _this_ nightmare. After all, he had held her dying body in his arms the evening she had passed away. 

He remembered that night so vividly. 

_"Kiss me," she had begged him. "One last time."_

_Without question, he had bent down and given her a soul-shattering kiss, one which he could feel still lingering on his lips - it was that beautiful. He knew he would never forget it. At that moment when his lips had touched hers, it was as if all of humanity had paused on its pedestal. The harsh reality of knowing she was about to die was removed from both their memories as all they could do was savor the moment when his lips caressed hers and her hands stroked his back as only a lover could. A former lover. A lover wronged. But still a lover. _

They had parted from their _existence-defining kiss a few minutes later. He had no words. He couldn't describe what they had just experienced together. Not like he needed to. She saw it in his eyes. _

"I can finally die in peace," she whispered. "I can finally die in....."

_Her eyes closed, and her words were left to be trailed off. He continued to hold her now lifeless body in his arms, noticing the smile that had been etched on her face. She looked happy. But how could he be? She was dead because of his doing, even if she did die in peace. _

He felt the sob faucets turn on and a moment later his tears came cascading down. They fell down his face, some droplets descending onto her cheek, which had lost its rosy luster. 

"It wasn't supposed to end up this way," he muttered, speaking to his dead friend's spirit. "We were supposed to get married...." He stopped talking as thoughts took over. Closing his eyes, he tried to remove the thoughts of unrest from his soul. "Why did I become so greedy? What made me actually think _she_ was my one true love? I don't even know anymore. All I know is I'm never going to forget you, living or dead."

With that, he stood up, wiping the stray tears away from his eyes. Stroking the imprint of her name on the grave one last time, he turned to go, but not before blowing a kiss to her. The fierce wind seemed to carry his kiss to deeper places. He smiled a sad smile before leaving the cemetery. 

He walked through the dark alleyways and streets of the town, his hands in his jacket pockets, trying to find refuge from the cold, but more so from the ache in his heart. 

He finally reached the house he had lived in most of his life, the house he knew he could have made a home with _her._

"Dammit," he hissed to himself. "These self-destructive thoughts have to end, or else it's going to be the end of me."

Going inside, he walked into his bedroom without a word. It was only seven thirty p.m. or so, but he was emotionally drained from the events of the day, and so he decided to try to get some sleep. Something that had not come naturally to him for a while now. 

He climbed into bed, his hands behind his head on the pillow. He closed his eyes, hoping that sleep would come to him. It didn't. Even when his eyes were shut, all he could picture was her dead body and grave, which was just a few miles away from where he was right now. 

He stayed in that horizontal position for a long time; so long that he lost touch with the hours and the time. All he could hear was the tick tock of the clock on the wall behind his bed. 

He heard his bedroom door open, and someone come inside. 

"Good, you're awake," he heard his blonde lover say. 

"Why is it good?" he blinked emotionlessly, not really wanting to hear the answer. 

"Be_cause,"_ she replied, as if stating the obvious. She took off her robe, to reveal a skimpy nightgown. She got inside the sheets next to him, stroking his arm as a means to show him what she wanted. Sex. Snuggling next to him, she rained kisses down his back and neck.

He stiffened at her touch. "I'm not in the mood," he sighed, knowing full well what she wanted. He didn't want to deal with her advances right now. He continued to keep his back to her. 

"Come on," she coaxed, her fingers massaging his back in a circular form. "I love you. And I want to make love to you."

"What's love?" he asked slowly, having lost all previous knowledge of the word.

"Love is what we have. Love is what makes the world go round!" She motioned with her hands, exasperation evident. 

"Is that why she's dead?" he asked, his tone not meaning to hold contempt or bitterness, but his words nevertheless giving out that effect. 

She sat up straight on the bed, staring at him with bulging eyes, horrified that he'd say such a thing. This wasn't the man she knew. The man she had fallen in love with. She needed that man back. But what did _he_ need? She thought she knew so she spoke.

"Sweetie," she coaxed, blinking back her tears, "Come here, I'll take care of you." She put a suggestive hand on his shoulder. 

"Do I look like I'm in the mood to make love?" he blurted out angrily, turning to face her. "This isn't like the movies where the upset man gets comforted through love making, ok? Just leave me alone." His tone was harsh, but only because he felt no one, not even himself, could help overcome this problem. And he didn't want to anyone to bother _trying_ to support him. 

The woman sighed. He had never refused her sexual advances before. Lately he had shut her out in every category; she had thought that it wouldn't be the same with lovemaking. 

Turning back to his side, he closed his eyes, and refused to open them until sleep finally clouded his being. 

It's going to be like this every time, the woman thought to herself. I know him well enough to know that this behavior isn't temporary. Her death really changed him, and it always will. 

"Damn you," she whispered inaudibly to the dead woman's spirit. "Even in death you still affect him." She shook her head at the irony of it all. 

"What was that?" he asked sleepily, his eyes still shut. 

"Nothing," she scoffed, turning to her side. 

A tear fell down her cheek, knowing that the love she shared with this man next to her was never going to be the same again. Hell, she didn't even think she could call it love anymore. 

Sometime in the middle of the night when they both were asleep, the man's eyes popped wide open. He turned to see his wife sleeping soundly next to him. He recalled how not to long ago, when he had woken up late one night and saw her sleeping form, he couldn't help but just watch her delicate being be in slumber. But he had lost his passion for a lot of things ever since a certain brunette had died, that included. 

Removing the covers from over his body, he got out of the bed quietly, so as not to wake her. The last thing he needed was her questions about where he was bound and why. 

Putting on some clothes and shoes, the tall man headed out of the house, as if in a robotic state, his mind leading him to where his heart wanted to be. The cemetery. 

He made his way to her grave. The wind had picked up since the afternoon. The streets looked haunting. Quickening his pace, he tried not to let the seemingly dead town get to him. But how could he not? If the town wasn't eerie enough, maybe it was his going out to his ex-lover's grave in the middle of the night. Whatever it was, it made him tighten his jacket around his body more, hoping for some sense of relief. 

He reached her grave for the second time in less than 12 hours. "You don't belong here," he whispered to her spirit as the wind brushed through his hair and face. "I miss you so much. I guess it _is_ true what they say - you don't know what you've got until it's gone. I lost the greatest thing in my life, only I couldn't see it until it was too late." The hot tears escaped through his eyes, falling down his face in a frenzy. He was a broken man and he knew it. 

The leaves rustled nearby and the faint sound of a wolf howling in the distance could be heard. Nothing spoke more volume though like the voices in his head, constantly blaming him for her death. He had to make them stop. They were eating him alive. 

Staring at the inscription of her name, he began to speak to her again. "All you wanted was my heart wasn't it?" he whispered to her grave. There was no real response, but he knew how she would have replied. "You're finally going to have it. It's completely yours."

He felt himself falling to his knees right in front of her grave. Then came forth the darkness....

The End

{a/n: what did you think of the short fic? i hope you liked it. Guess which couple in Passions this is about! Not like it really matters. But if you're interested, I can tell you who I based it after on Passions.} 


	2. The Whole Explanation

"Hindsight"

Chapter 2: "The Explanations"

Thanks to everyone who reviewed and liked this short fiction story I wrote. I really appreciated all of the feedback. I loved writing this story and I wanted to make it as perfect as it could be before I uploaded it. 

It doesn't really matter _who _the characters in this fic are, because either way you look at it, nothing is going to change. But I thought it would be an interesting twist since this story could very well have described many of the love triangle couples in Harmony. 

Some of the triangle couples that could have been thought to be the main characters in this story are: Ivy, Sam, Grace. Or Miguel, Kay, Charity. Or Luis, Beth, Sheridan. Or Theresa, Ethan, Gwen. 

At least one of these triangle couples would have been the ones you readers would probably have thought to be the characters in "Hindsight." And you're right, they are one of them. 

Let me clarify, though. I did put up some hints throughout the short story that would have gave away one couple over another. As you readers already know, one of the women is blond, and the other is a brunette. The man thinks that the blond was his true love, and he "chose" her over the brunette, causing the latter to be anguished with grief over the love of her life which she lost. 

We all know that Grace isn't really a brunette (not even close!) so that couple is out. 

Kay, Miguel and Charity would probably have been my guess about this fic if I had been one of the people reading "Hindsight" from the non-writer's point of view. All the signs are there, Kay is a brunette (somewhat), Charity is blond, and Miguel does think that Charity is his true love. But that is not the couple this story is based after, even though they do share very real similarities with the story. _But then again, this is Passions, everything is related!_

Most of the readers seemed to related this story to the characters of Theresa, Ethan and Gwen. I can see why you might think that. The story was dramatically and tragically passionate and the part in this fic that was in italics (when the brunette was dying after having shared that one perfect kiss with the man she loved) did sound like something Theresa would say and do. But throughout Passions' history, we have come to understand that Ethan's true love is Theresa. Not Gwen. Gwen is blond. Scratch that triangular couple from the choice of being the characters I wrote this fic about. 

So the only possible triangular couple left is that of Beth, Luis and Sheridan. That is the right choice. Sheridan is the blond woman who is married to Luis. Luis is guilt-ridden over the loss of his first love. One clue that showcased them being the characters of this story was when Luis said "We were supposed to get married..." As you already know, Beth and Luis were supposed to get married on two occasions so far on Passions, but neither took place. 

I hope that your opinion of this fic does not change now that the characters have been revealed. I wanted you to enjoy this story as a whole, without the excess of who's with who and all of that. 

I'm planning on uploading this same story onto fictionpress.net as a fictional story, not a fanfiction. It's my favorite short story, one that I worked hard on and I hope you all liked it. 

Thanks for all of the reviews!

* ashes of roses *


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